


A Drink Too Far

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Primeval
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Friendship, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Ryan thinks Stephen's just confused. He doesn't really know the half of it.





	A Drink Too Far

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fredbassett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/gifts).



> Written as a Christmas present for the lovely fredbassett who gave the prompt “drunk and disorderly”.

When Ryan had first been assigned to the Anomaly Research Project to say that he hadn't known what to expect was a massive understatement. But it ultimately hadn't been the dinosaurs or the time travel but the people that had proved so surprising.

Abby's knowledge of animal behaviour had soon proved invaluable while Connor's enthusiasm and technical know how had somehow become more endearing than annoying. Cutter seemed absolutely mad but underneath he had a good heart. Lester's bark rarely had a bite and Claudia's bite was probably more dangerous than her bark. And then there was Stephen.

Ryan had considered him just an attractive package with not much going on upstairs but had quickly revised his position if not for his tracking skills, then because his talents with a gun nearly matched his own.

He'd also figured him for a bit of ladies man, given Abby's very obvious flirtation, until they'd all gone out for drinks and Stephen had tried to match him pint for pint and then made a clumsy attempt at a kiss which Ryan had carefully rebuffed.

That had been the first time.

* * * * *

Ryan had brushed it off as some sort of experimentation. He didn't advertise that he was gay for obvious reasons, but he didn't particularly hide it either and when someone asked how his weekend went he didn't hesitate to talk about the man who'd bought him a drink, or the curry he'd eaten with a bloke from his gym. He hadn't thought that Stephen was paying any more attention than anybody else, but maybe he'd been wrong.

He didn't notice Stephen checking him out in the showers or even seeming to pay any more than friendly attention to him, or anybody else for that matter. So he dismissed it from his mind.

Until Helen bloody Cutter turned up and the world went to hell in a handcart. He'd known something was wrong between her and Stephen from the moment she'd turned up and solidified Cutter's reputation as the most oblivious man on the planet.

Stephen had turned up at his flat after the Dodo incident, already two sheets to the wind. When Ryan didn't answer straight away he'd hit every buzzer by the main door, pissing off his neighbours and then started shouting something incomprehensible (thankfully) about dinosaurs, and betrayal and shooting himself with a tranq gun.

“Fuck's sake, Stephen, get inside,” Ryan said, grabbing Stephen by the front of his jacket and hauling him inside the main entrance and then up the stairs to his flat. Mrs Kominski from No 4 was peering owlishly at him from her door and Mr Ferrars was standing on the landing and actually winked at Ryan as he and Stephen walked past.

Ryan preferred the hear no evil, see no evil approach to his neighbours, so this was less than ideal.

“I'm drunk,” Stephen said.

“No shit,” Ryan replied, pulling Stephen straight through to the bathroom and pushing him into his one luxury – the most expensive walk-in shower he'd been able to find. Then he turned on the water to ice cold.

Stephen stared at him morosely but didn't say anything as he slid to the floor of the shower. Ryan got out a couple of towels and threw them in Stephen's direction before pulling out bath mats in the vain hope of protecting his floor when Stephen finally got himself together. Then he left him to it.

Forty minutes later Stephen came into the room wearing the t-shirt and sweat pants Ryan had laid out for them. They were a bit baggy but Ryan figured that was the least of his worries.

“Sorry.”

Ryan looked up from the Dan Brown he'd been reading, a Secret Santa gift that had been foisted on him last year by one of his lads, and waited for Stephen to say something else. When he didn't, instead just standing there like a drowned rat, Ryan sighed and headed towards the kitchen. “Tea?” he called out over his shoulder.

Stephen didn't reply but Ryan could hear him padding on bare feet into the kitchen behind him.

Ryan worked in silence, only pausing to point Stephen to one of the stools at the breakfast counter. After a few minutes thought Ryan got out the grill and started frying some bacon.

“You don't have to do that,” Stephen said.

“I know. So, you going to tell me what all this is about?”

“What do you mean?” Stephen asked.

Ryan incredulously stared at him as the kettle finished boiling. Stephen looked away.

“Have you always been this much of a fool or this something new?” Ryan asked.

Stephen shifted in his seat. “What do you -” He stopped as Ryan roughly put down a plate of bacon butties on the table and took a bite of his own.

Stephen took one for himself and carefully bit into it. Ryan handed over a mug of tea, made just the way he knew Stephen liked it. Stephen nodded gratefully.

“I'm not usually this much of a mess. It's just – I did something really stupid...”

“Slept with Helen Cutter?”

Stephen paused with his mug towards his mouth and Ryan laughed.

“It's not that hard to figure it out if you've got eyes. How the hell Cutter hasn't noticed, now that's a mystery worth a library.”

“It was three months and I thought I was in love. I didn't even know Cutter was still in the picture till I saw them in his office together. He was doing up the back of her dress and I just knew that he was still in love with her. I believed her when she said it was a marriage of convenience and when she was gone, I thought he was just looking back with rose tinted glasses. He'd told me about the arguments, her disappearing for days on end.” He smiled ruefully at Ryan. “I matched up the dates and only a few of them were with me.”

“You're an idiot.”

“Yes, thanks, I'd already got that,” Stephen muttered. “What am I going to do?”

Ryan started clearing away the plates. “You don't want me to tell you what to do,” he said, filling the dishwasher. “What you want is for me to tell you that Cutter will forgive you and everything will be all right.” He turned back to Stephen who had sunk even deeper into himself. “It's not going to be all right Stephen, but you know what you have to do. I've got some rotas to work on, the spare bedroom's first door on the left. I'll see you in the morning.”

* * * *

At 3 in the morning Ryan shifted in his bed, aware of some sound having woken him. He stayed very still, trying to work out what it was. A creak of floorboards outside his room gave him a good idea and he waited to see if Stephen was going to try and open his door. He couldn't help but wonder what exactly Helen Cutter had done to him to have a man Ryan would normally have said had his head on straight acting like he didn't know which way was up, but he was more than a little relieved when, after a few moments, Stephen returned to his bedroom.

* * * * *

The next morning showed no sign of Stephen apart from a note saying that he'd gone for a run and would return his borrowed clothes at work. Ryan sighed, made himself a quick breakfast, and headed into the office. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to be around for the inevitable confrontation but he could well imagine that out of all of them, he was the only one that would have Stephen's back.

God help them all.

* * * *

The first thing he saw on arrival at work was Cutter, his face like thunder. He actually flexed his fists as Ryan approached and Ryan slowed his pace. It wasn't that he was afraid what Cutter might do to him, more what Cutter might do to himself.

“I need a drink,” Cutter said.

Ryan looked at his watch. “It's 10 in the morning.”

“A large drink,” was Cutter's only response.

“All right,” Ryan replied. “Wetherspoons will be open.”

Ryan found himself driving Cutter to the nearest pub and ordering a pint of beer and a whiskey chaser with an orange juice for himself. They were by no means the only people drowning their sorrows already but Ryan managed to find a relatively secluded booth near the back where he could keep an eye on Cutter and everyone else. He was definitely going to be putting in for a pay rise after this week; he'd thought that Lester had been joking when he'd said most of his role at the Project would involve babysitting but that had proven distressingly accurate.

“Stephen,” Cutter said, after five minutes of staring into his pint as if he'd never seen one before.

“Tall bloke, fussy hair, I'm familiar,” Ryan replied once it seemed like Cutter's words had deserted him.

“Helen.”

“Psychopath. Also familiar.”

Cutter glared at Ryan before downing half of his pint. “She's not - “ Even Cutter had the sense to shut up at the look on Ryan's face and settled on finishing his drink instead.

“So you hit him?” Ryan asked, having already noticed the bruised knuckles on Cutter's right hand.

“I'd never hit Stephen,” Cutter said without thinking and Ryan carefully kept the relief from his face; their relationship was damaged but not irreparably so then. “I hit my locker. And it bloody hurts.”

“I'm sure it does. I'll see what this place has in the way of a First Aid kit. And I'll fetch you some water.”

Cutter had the sense not to argue.

* * * * *

Ryan found himself in the unusual position of hoping for an anomaly shout and disappointed when it didn't materialise. It was two days post the Stephen/Helen revelations and whilst still tense the atmosphere hadn't degenerated further than that. Helen was in police custody, having been caught breaking into Stephen's flat while he was at work, though Ryan wasn't sure what she was going to be charged with – something to do with terrorism and crimes against humanity if Lester had his way.

Cutter had turned up drunk that morning and been signed off work for a month. Originally it had been a week but then he'd taken a swing at Lester and accidentally punched Connor in the arm instead. Connor was fine, if a little bruised and milking it for all his worth with Abby and Claudia was making sure that Cutter stayed sober and actually relaxed for once in his life.

And more if the rumour mill was to be believed. Though of course Ryan never paid any attention.

He was just pondering his life choices and trying to decide what to do about dinner when there was a knock at the door. Since no one buzzed him he presumed it was one of his neighbours so was surprised to find a sheepish looking Stephen on his doorstep, carrying two bags from what smelt like Ryan's favourite curry house.

“One of your neighbours let me in,” Stephen explained. “I brought food,” he added, as Ryan hesitated. “And beer.”

“Right, yeah. Come in.”

Ryan got them settled in the living room, take away cartons spread all over his coffee table.

“Madras, you remembered,” Ryan said, a little surprised as he took a large bite and washed it down with some beer.

Stephen shrugged. “Least I could do, after. Well after I made a fool of myself. More than once.”

Ryan pulled some naan apart in lieu of saying anything.

Stephen concentrated on his own food, looking like a man who still had the world on his shoulders.

“You okay?” Ryan asked.

“I've been with men before,” Stephen said in reply.

Ryan took a sip of beer. “...Okay.”

“I mean, when I – I only got drunk to get my courage up because you're you, not because you're a bloke.”

“Okay.”

“So, I thought. God, I just...”

Ryan took pity on Stephen by leaning forward and kissing him quiet.

When they broke apart Stephen was looking satisfyingly dazed and Ryan smiled. “You can sleep in the spare room tonight, then we'll have a proper conversation in the morning. How's that sound?”

Stephen took a moment to compose himself and then nodded. He'd not exactly been thinking clearly lately and this was the sort of thing he probably ought to have a clear head about.

“Don't worry,” Ryan said, “I'm not going to change my mind.”

Stephen let out a shaky breath and nodded, settling down to finish his dinner. What with Cutter calling him that morning to arrange a talk and him finally plucking up the courage to say something to Ryan, maybe things were finally starting to look up.

And then their mobiles rang, calling them into work.

Well, at least some things never changed.


End file.
